Bloodlust
by snowywhitehorses
Summary: "Your pain is my pleasure, Granger, it really is."
1. Prologue

**DISCLAMER: I do not own Harry Potter. DON'T MOCK ME.**

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><p>He watched her writhing on the floor in pain, suffering from the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. He couldn't help but chuckle darkly at the pathetic state her body was in. Blood was oozing out from her mouth continuously, staining the floor she was on, and her hands were sticking out in rather odd angles. Her eyes were bloodshot and dry tears stained her cheeks. After each and every second, she would let out a whimper of pain. The sound of it was pleasure to his ears.<p>

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><p>After the downfall of Voldemort, many death eaters defected and ran away. Several people thought he defected too, but it was all just an act. He hated the fact that The Boy Who Lived succeeded once again, along with that blood traitor and Mudblood. He left the others behind and went into hiding in a forest not too far from the Manor called the Saltus Miseria.<p>

Out in the forest, he made a shelter of his own. He didn't eat. He didn't want to. He tortured people whom he regarded as filth. It was a past time and he found it _so _enjoyable_._**_  
><em>**

He wanted to get back the respect his family name so rightfully deserved once more, to rise one day and become even more powerful than Voldemort. He didn't want to be known as the coward who couldn't kill his own headmaster.

He hated everything.  
>He hated everyone.<br>He never loved.  
><em>He never knew how to.<em>**_  
><em>**

And even though he knew his mother loved him more than his father ever did, he still ran away.

He didn't belong there.  
>He wanted<em> revenge.<em>**_  
><em>**

He felt like a worthless being after he was saved by the Golden Trio in the war.

He was _ashamed_.  
>Ashamed of the fact that he couldn't save himself.<br>Ashamed of the fact that he couldn't save his friend.

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><p>He often visited the nearby shops in a hooded cloak, so that he wouldn't be recognized, and bought the Daily Prophet to know what was going on in the Wizarding World.<p>

After finding out that the Mudblood was heading off to the same forest he was in to look for some special herbs on a medicine she was working on, he was delighted.

This was the opportunity to finally be recognized again.  
>It would all be in the news and he imagined how the headlines would be.<p>

**'Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio, missing since research in the forest of Saltus Miseria. Traces of blood found. Could a doppelgänger of Voldemort be on the rise?'**

Oh yes, it was _perfect._

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><p>He counted the days she would arrive in the forest by little markings on the wall which looked like a calendar created by the sharp edge of a stone.<p>

One more week.

Five more days.

Three more days.

**Today.**

He was so ecstatic that one would think he was mental.

It was no doubt that one would actually think he _was_ mental considering that he looked as if he hadn't slept for years because of his bulging eyes. His face had become thinner too. Too thin. He had lost all the flesh in his cheekbones owing to the fact that he starved himself each day. His clothes were dirty, as well. Much too big for his scrawny form.

As soon as he heard footsteps not too far from his shelter, he hid behind a tree and waited for a glimpse of the bushy brown hair he was so familiar with.

This was it.  
>This was his first step to victory.<p>

He caught a whiff of perfume, which he recognized as vanilla, and immediately knew it was her.

Sure he hated her because she was a Mudblood, but nobody could deny the fact that she was indeed attractive. However, that was not what he was focused on now. He was solely focused on revenge. The thoughts of being powerful and having everyone bow down to your every need invaded his mind and he couldn't help but grin in immense satisfaction.

Salazar Slytherin, the image of being victorious looked beautiful.  
>Perfect.<br>Serene.

And it was what he _exactly_ wanted.

As soon as he caught sight of her, he slowly crept up towards the trees behind her, warily remaining silent so he wouldn't be noticed. Carefully, he disarmed and silenced her so that no one could hear her screams of pain as he casted the unforgivable curses on her.

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><p>He loved watching her suffer.<br>He loved watching her trying to scream for help, and giving up seconds later because she decided that it was no use.  
>Pity, really, that he'd have to ruin her in order to get what he wanted.<p>

**_"CRUCIO."_**  
><strong><em>"CRUCIO."<em>**  
><strong><em>"CRUCIO."<em>**

He'd repeat it, minute after minute, smirking at the sight of filth squirming in pain right under his feet.

**_"SCREAM, MUDBLOOD, SCREAM!"_**

He'd chant over and over again, taunting her as she'd attempt to shout for help once more.

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><p>He was waiting for something.<p>

Just a few more seconds, and...

_There._

She was finally gushing out blood onto the damp forest floor.

The first evidence that her rescuers would find once they start looking for her.

But... He noticed something queer.

Her blood was red.  
>Like his.<p>

He was disgusted.  
>It shouldn't be the same.<br>She was a _Mudblood, _her blood was _supposed_ to be **filthy.  
><strong>

Impossible, but, whatever.

He didn't care.

He waited until she finally passed out and knelt down beside her.

He touched the blood which stained the forest floor with his fingers and smelled it.  
>It smelled metallic.<br>Just like his.  
>Just like everyone else's.<br>Of course _he'd _have known.

He had seen the bloodshed of many blood traitors during the war, all of them murdered as if they were savage dogs.

Her blood was supposed to be different.

How... _odd_.

He studied her face and noticed how much she had changed after the war. It was a pity that such a pretty face would be ruined in just a matter of time.

"Having a good life with Potty and the Weasel, I'm sure of it," muttered Draco darkly, secretly envying the fact that she was having the time of her life while he was all alone in the forest, behaving as if he was some pathetic hermit.

He pushed all these thoughts aside and levitated her limp and bruised form over to his shelter while grinning delightedly as he dropped her onto the cold, hard ground of his new home.

**_His revenge had just begun._**

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><p><strong>Reviews, please!<strong>


	2. How It All Began

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own zee Harry Potter. Trust me, I've tried to gain ownership but was viciously chased around by people who assumed that I am a 'copyright stealer'. I mean, come on.**

**Author's note: I like being disturbing, guys. Being disturbing is fascinating.**

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><p>About four hours had passed when Hermione finally gained consciousness.<p>

She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and regain strength as she knew better than to panic in a situation such as the one she was currently placed in. Her throat was dry, and her face felt dirty as a result from all the screaming and thrashing around.

Hermione tried to get up, but felt a huge bolt of pain shoot upwards her spine towards her neck and figured it was no use.

The little place she was in was fully dark so she felt around the dry, grainy ground with her hands, trying to look for her wand but soon remembered that she was disarmed awhile back.

Thoughts of what happened a few hours ago flooded into her mind.

_How could I have been so stupid? _she thought.

Of course she knew that walking in an abandoned forest would be dangerous, and she reckoned that she would be able to handle it but the thought that she would be kidnapped never came to mind.

She shut her eyes tight and tried to remember the faint image of the kidnapper she had caught glimpse of before she was disarmed. She could only make out a pale face and flaxen hair.

_Flaxen hair? Could it have been...?_

"No, that's impossible," she thought. Nobody had ever heard from him since the war ended two years ago. He couldn't possibly be staying in a solitary place like this.

All further thoughts were drained when she felt a gush of wind rush past her and the slamming of a door shut.

Hermione heard something glide across the floor and hit her arm.

"Eat," said a cruel, stern voice.

"Where am I?" asked Hermione in a croaky whisper.

"Don't ask any questions. _Just eat_."

Thinking it would be best if she didn't get on the unknown person's nerve, she helped herself up and started downing what was on the plate.

"Disgusting," he sneered.

"Thanks," she retorted back.

"Think twice before trying to get smart with me, Mudblood."

Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of the insult. Not because of the fact that he said it, but because the way he said it had reminded her of a certain boy everyone had lost contact with after the war.

Curiosity getting the best of her, she took a deep breath and asked, "Mal-"

"Don't say a word," said the person in a rushed voice, as if he knew what she was going to ask next.

"Why not?"

"I thought I _already_ told you, do **not **ask any questions."

"But I'm just-"

"SHUT UP!"

"Why are you so-"

"How _dare _you be so persistent in trying to make me answer such unnecessary questions? Even after being tortured and almost on the verge of being cursed to death, you still have the nerve to argue?"

"But-"

"But _NOTHING. _You don't _need_ to know who I am, and even if you did, I wouldn't tell you. You'll have to figure it out yourself."

"How can I? I mean, I can't even see-"

Hermione's words were cut off when she felt a rough, bony hand wrap around her neck in a tight hold, choking her and preventing her from speaking anymore.

"That is ENOUGH. If I more so heard one more word coming out of that revolting mouth of yours, I'll see to it that you won't be able to speak, nor eat, nor even scream during the next few days you take pleasurable shelter in my new home."

And with that being said, Hermione's neck was soon released from the tight grasp and the sound of footsteps and a door slamming shut indicated the departure of the unknown individual.

Hermione quickly put both her hands over her neck, and slowly rubbed it in soothing circles, trying to get rid of the new pain this shrewd person had caused.

_Shelter?_

_Home?_

Oh Merlin, what had she gotten herself into?

Just as she asked herself this question, the door suddenly swung open and in a flash, her hands and legs were bound in ropes.

Hermione was about to gasp when –unexpectedly- a dirty, old cloth was shoved into her mouth and the ends of it were quickly fastened into a tight knot at the back of her head.

She then felt her face being held roughly by two cold hands and by the little beam of moonlight which was reflected from the small window on the far right, she could see that she was now looking into emotionless, stony, grey eyes.

"Have a good rest, my filthy little Mudblood."

Before Hermione even had the time to contemplate what he had just said, her eyes fluttered shut and she soon fell into a deep sleep with nothing but darkness surrounding her.

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><p><strong>So, it's been months since I last updated, ey?<strong>

***Dodges tomatoes, potatoes and other veggies***

**I apologize, I've been busy and what not.**

**But if you want to get updates on when I'll be uploading my next chappy, feel free to follow me on Tumblr (the link is on my profile).**

**Thank you for reading!**

**Toodles. (:**


	3. Author's Note

Hey all, Rochelle (a.k.a. snowywhitehorses) here!

I know I haven't updated this Dramione in a while as it was on a very long, scheduled (sort of) hiatus. The reason is that I have started writing other stories and I've posted them on FictionPress and Wattpad under the same Pen Name.

However, I _will_ be updating Bloodlust but it may take a few weeks as I've been very busy these days.

Nevertheless, if you guys are interested in checking out my other stories that I've posted on FP and Watty, please feel free to do so and do leave some feedback! (:

Until then, adios!


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